Fandomstuck- Battle Scars
by TheKittyOKat
Summary: Sherlock Fandom doesn't have emotions, or so he likes to think. He can deduce anything, and predict anyone... Except the bouncy, pasta-loving Hetalia Fandom that is! But, perhaps Sherlock will see that he and the bubbly historian have more in common than he had thought?


"Oh shit!"

Homestuck rushed over to his moirail, neon green eyes wide in panic. "Heta! Are you okay?!"

The other fandom blinked, sitting up. He nodded, wincing. What happened? His gaze wandered to his side and he felt his stomach turn when he saw blood. Oh, of course.

"Oh my god, Heta, I'm so sorry! I was trying to hit douchewings here!"

Supernatural huffed but didn't say anything, instead going to fetch help. Homestuck dropped his sickles by his side, taking a quick look at his moirail. His throat tightened. Hetalia had been trying to stop him and Supernatural from fighting, and usually it worked, but this time he had jumped between the two. The last thing Homestuck ever wanted to do was hurt Hetalia, and he cursed himself for not listening when his moirail had told them to settle down.

"Alright, what happened?" Sherlock walked in with a sigh, quickly figuring out the situation with a single look around. His deducing stare simply caused Supernatural to roll his eyes, but the scarved fandom pointedly ignored it as he made his way to the other two fandoms.

"Let me guess." Sherlock paused, taking another glance. "Wait, scratch that, I don't need to. You make this way too easy. You idiots were rough housing again." He sighed, kneeling down by Hetalia. "I can not believe Doctor Who chose such a time to go out for a while and leave me with all of you. This is not my division." He muttered under his breath, looking the wounded fandom over. "Supernatural, go fetch a first aid kit, would you?"The winged one nodded, sweeping out of the room, returning shortly with the requested item. Sherlock took it and turned to the both of them. "Why don't you two go and annoy someone else? I'll take care of Hetalia, try not to kill each other while you're out." The two shuffled out reluctantly, shooting glares at each other and hissing under their breath.

"You really should be more cautious." Sherlock commented, turning back to Hetalia as he dug through the first aid kit.

"I know, I know." Hetalia said, sitting up with a wince. "But I kind of figured they wouldn't listen. I knew they would stop if I was hurt." he gave a sly grin, and Sherlock blinked.

"You risked getting injured to stop them from fighting?" He didn't need Hetalia to answer, obviously. He shook his head, a small smile tugging at his lips to the surprise of both parties. "Imbecile." Sherlock muttered. "If you're going to get yourself killed, at least do it when Doctor Who is here so he can deal with it."

The other chuckled in reply, as Sherlock straightened up. "I'm going to need you to remove your bomber."

Hetalia hesitated, reluctantly slipping his jacket off. As soon as he did, he fiddled with his shirt collar a bit, looking uncomfortable. Sherlock cocked his head, eyes narrowing at the strange reaction. Not many would have noticed this, and he couldn't find a reason or deduce the cause for this course of action. He turned back to the wound, clicking his tongue.

"You'll need to take the shirt off too." He remarked, prodding a finger at the spot where the blood was darkening the fabric.

"Ah, do I have too?" Hetalia fiddled with his collar a bit more.

"Yes." Sherlock was curious now, and he intended to find out what the curled fandom was hiding.

"I'd rather not..." Hetalia shifted, and the avoiding of eye contact did not go unnoticed by the other.

"Hetalia," Sherlock sighed. "If you don't remove the shirt so I can fix your wounds I will either leave you here or pull it off of you myself."

"In that case, bye!" The historian gave a cheery wave, smiling.

"Come here, you idiot." With a huff he gripped the ends of the shirt, tugging upwards with a protesting yelp from the other. Before it was fully off, the feeling of cold metal brushed Sherlock's hand. He paused, then pulled the shirt off to see what that was. Hetalia shifted again, looking away as the other fandom stared at the new item, trying to fit it in with his deductions of the smaller fandom. The silver metal shined in the light, the plates at the end moving a bit as the fandom stilled. Dog tags. Sherlock stared, trying to put it together with the other things he had tried to deduce about the other. Hetalia bit his lip, squirming under Sherlock's cold stare, and the thick silence.

"You're a former soldier then?" Sherlock finally asked.

"_Si._" Hetalia looked back up to meet his icy eyes.

"'Leonzio Himaruya'." Sherlock read, looking closer. "I take it that's the name you went by with the humans."

Hetalia nodded, shrugging awkwardly. "Well, when I _was_ human. It's one of the only human memories I have."

Sherlock scoffed. He remembered most of his human life, although he preferred to block it out. It was quite dull. "Actually, that does explain some things..." Sherlock hummed as his observations began falling into place. "You don't like guns, although I've seen you handle them with such experience, I can't say much about the way you carry yourself, since that utterly baffles me to this day." He shook his head, going back to inspecting the wound. "So dreadfully cheery, I will never understand."

Hetalia didn't say much, not really sure what he was expecting to happen when someone found out. Sherlock was taking it pretty lightly, which put the curled fandom at a loss for words. He was backed against the front of the couch, arms resting on the cushion as to not get in the way. Sherlock watched his expression carefully, wondering now if there was another reason he was reluctant to remove his shirt. If it was just the dog tags, he could have hid them in his pockets, so there could have been something else... But then again it _was_ Hetalia, who did things for no reason surprisingly often, to the detective's frustration.

"Turn around, I need to make sure there aren't any smaller wounds or blood to get cleaned up."

"I don't think there are..." Hetalia trailed off at Sherlock's hard stare. He sighed, turning around. Across the cheerful fandom's back were long, jagged scars. Running down his spine and across his shoulder blades the huge, white scars crossed each other, surrounded by smaller scars as well. Sherlock studied them, quirking a brow.

"Ah... Old scars. Extremely old by the looks of them. From those battles, I assume." Hetalia nodded, as the other finished patching up the wound in his side. "There, try to avoid jumping in front of weapons from now on, if you can. Or wait for Doctor Who, since I do not intend on fixing you every five seconds or baby sitting the three of you all afternoon."

Hetalia quickly put his shirt back on, tucking the dog tags underneath his shirt collar before throwing his bomber on and adjusting it comfortably. "Hey, you don't mind keeping this between us, do you Sher?" Hetalia winced at his side, sitting back down next to the other.

"Of course not. One former soldier to another." Hetalia blinked in surprise, and Sherlock smirked, giving a wink.

"_Wunderbar!_" The curled fandom laughed. "_Danke_, Sher!"

Sherlock sighed as he was pulled into a hug by the smaller fandom, lifting up an arm to stop him from covering his face in kisses. Gross. The historian's affectionate habits annoyed him to no end, but both knew that he didn't really mind. Not as much as he said, anyways. Hetalia yawned, still clinging to the other. He shifted to sit in Sherlock's lap, burying his face in his chest. Sherlock groaned loudly, not even attempting to push the other off. He wasn't seriously going to take a god damn nap, was he? Oh, he had to be kidding. Hetalia stifled a chuckle, listening to the heartbeat of the other. And Sherlock always said he didn't have one. With another yawn, Hetalia began drifting off into his_ siesta,_ snoring lightly as his curl bounced happily.

Sherlock sighed, shifting to at least get comfortable. He cursed the fact that he had friends, and soon began feeling tired himself. He watched the sleeping fandom in his lap with an annoyed expression. He never would understand him. He blinked when the other began stirring. Oh, right, Homestuck mentioned before something about Hetalia having nightmares. Sherlock wondered if maybe these were nightmares of battle, hesitating before running a hand through his curly chestnut hair comfortingly. Hetalia began calming down, shifting again to lay more comfortably in the other's lap. Sherlock held his gaze, lingering. He looked around. He knew no one else was in the room but he couldn't be too careful. With one last glance he leaned down, brushing Hetalia's bangs out of his face to leave a gentle kiss on his forehead. He then quickly straightened up, leaning back against the couch with a content sigh. He didn't understand Hetalia, but maybe he didn't need to.

Everyone knew Sherlock Fandom didn't have emotions, but maybe this one time he could make an exception.


End file.
